Saturday, October 08, 2005


A UPS truck rolled up to my house on Thursday. I opened the front door, and a guy in a brown jumpsuit handed me an enormous box marked “FRAGILE.” The return address was Copenhagen, Denmark.

I ran inside, tore open the box, and dug my way through thirty square meters of bubble-wrap, crumpled newspaper and packing peanuts. And what did I find buried in the middle?

Two bottles (half-liter each) of Paulaner® Oktoberfest Beer! Plus, a note that read as follows:

Hi Sal,

Now you can have your own private Oktoberfest!

BR from Denmark

The source of this prized booty was, of course, my Viking friend Anders—the man who put the “Great” in “Great Dane.”

Well…I certainly couldn’t let such Nordic hospitality go to waste, so I did indeed have my own private Oktoberfest last night.

And as I finished the second bottle, I had a “sobering” thought: In order for my Oktoberfest to equal the one that Anders had last week, I’d need to drink ANOTHER TWELVE BOTTLES before going to bed!

Fortunately, I didn’t have that option. Otherwise, a guy in a brown jumpsuit might’ve handed Anders an enormous box marked "DEAD BODY."
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At 4:18 AM, Anonymous Kick Shoe said...

Happy October, Sal. Don't go overboard or you'll end up like Annabelle--the slush.

At 4:31 AM, Blogger Culinary Fool said...

I went to an Oktoberfest in Puyallup, WA last night. It was their first year and they made a valiant effort but they still have a ways to go to get close to "authentic". Although the woman swinging from the ceiling in her German finery certainly helped set the mood! :-)

I didn't drink as much as either you or Anders - but I did manage to eat a few key treats! :-)

The German Fool

At 1:49 PM, Blogger Sal DeTraglia said...

Admit it, Fool. That woman swinging from the ceiling was YOU, wasn't it!

At 6:50 PM, Blogger Culinary Fool said...

Next year.... I can only aspire...

~ B

At 6:20 PM, Anonymous Lenox said...

It's been a dry three weeks since the service providers for my Internet and surfing pleasure decided to cut me off for what appears to be No Reason. I have spent that time ringing 902 011110, 902012220 and a few others, listening to messages, beeps, instructions and recordings. Occasionally talking to girls (with suspiciously Arab or rather Tangerine accents as the curses of outsourcing begin to thrash Europe) who explain to me that I really must ring another number. One which I had already talked to. Or at least, listened to. The girls are clever though, I'll grant them that. I don't believe that there can be that many of them in the office(I've talked to around 40 so far), so they must switch their names around every day. I try them in Spanish, I try them in English and I try them in French - as the company in question, 'Wanadon't', belongs to France-telecon. Nada, rien and nuffink. However, and this is the reason for my letter, one of them, Pierrete, I think, promised in an unguarded moment to switch me on tomorrow. Yay!.
Hold on though... It's a fiesta tomorrow. You don't think that she creamed me, do you?

At 8:44 PM, Blogger Sal DeTraglia said...

Hey Lenox:

You've gotta give Wannadon't credit for one thing. It isn't just any company that can make Telefonica's service look good.

In any event, it's good to have you back.



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